For the worst
by Niel Elendar
Summary: He's always behind him. Deku is always behind him. Picking up what he throws down, throwing out what he breaks, following him from room to room with excuses, explanations, his damn will to "sort it out". l l A few years after leaving UA, Katsuki and Izuku moved in together. One is succeeding more than the other. At home though, things are quite different.
1. Behind him

He's always behind him. Deku is always behind him. Picking up what he throws down, throwing out what he breaks, following him from room to room with excuses, explanations, his damn will to "sort it out".

He has always talked too much, a real chatterbox when he's at it, you could trust his shy, discrete looks but fuck no, here he goes mumbling and going on and on with stupid explanations, like words could help. He is that annoying presence, sticking like glue, a shadow he has try to push out so many times until worn down he got used to it, had to bear it, accept in his life. A shadow he cannot push back.

Katsuki returns from his mission and finds Deku waiting for him. He set the table and prepared the meal like some cheap housewife. Doesn't he have a life, people to save, other priorities than playing that joke like kids play tea parties? They earn enough to order, hell they even earn enough to eat sushi everyday, so why should he face his joyful air and the expectation of a nice word, of a thank you, of anything? Anyway Deku doesn't even cook well. He tells him while slumping into the chair with a stern look. The fish is almost burned, the rice is too sticky, and it would have been better with teriyaki sauce – he sees Deku's smile shake as he gobbles down his portion and critiques burst out.

It's not like Katsuki couldn't manage food: he's quite the chef actually.

"What did you even do today? You don't have saving the world business to deal with or something?"

Deku thinks he invites him to tell his day, and tries to do some small talk about work, weather and shit, but Katsuki cuts him, suddenly noticing the new lampshade on the ceiling. He frowns. He had told him to wait. The model he bought doesn't match the decoration, that green is too acid, damn it! Did he even thought about cutting the power before installing it? He's got zero practical skills, and Katsuki is sure he did it like an amateur.

He doesn't listen the brunet protests, leaves his meal behind, pulls out the stepladder with a disgusted air.

What do you mean, not the moment? Of course it's not the moment but what choice does he has? He should just have listened! He would have done it quietly instead of being forced to fix his mistakes. Of course, Deku screw up, that good for nothing. That's why HE should be in charge. He is telling him all the time. Wait til I come back. I'll do it. But no. No, Deku has to do it on the sly, preferably without him; supposedly because he's on his back all the time. Him? On his back? He's kidding right? Deku's acting like he wants to prove himself, like he could suddenly become better, deserve his regard (but without him, like he was the one stopping him from succeeding, like he's afraid) but he sucks, you can't trust him, and his relentlessness to prove the contrary and mess up again and again and again and force him to go back over every fucking time just puts him beside himself.

Maybe he's a pro hero that everyone admires, but it's enough to see him at home, outside of his work, to get that he's hopeless. He's slow, he's clumsy... He tells him and puts his hands near the light-bulb to unscrew it and Deku mumbles between his teeth and runs to the entrance to cut the power, but Katsuki's already taking apart the electrical circuit - he IS efficient - and swears when a spark crackles near his precious hands. A warning cry from Deku: the breaker is down. He undoes all the brunet's work, puts everything in order on the last step, every part, and starts it again. Down there, the young man is waiting, containing his frustration while glancing at the meal left on the table, which is getting cold. He prepared the soup following his mother's recipe, he knows it's delicious and even Kacchan can't deny it.

Katsuki, he does the work well, in the right order, precisely, and of course the wires are all lined up, no gape between the light and the ceiling, everything is straight, perfect, functioning. Color isn't great but at least it's pro-work.

He sighs with relief, then lets his sight fall on the dark mess of hair that awaits him down there. Deku is staring at his feet, he looks sullen. What, he dares to sulk? HE's the one who fucked up, he was supposed to wait, he TOLD him, but no he had to get all bossy at home, thinking he's at his hero office, that he can decide everything and that's how in the end nothing goes right! The nerd feels his tension but doesn't move, on the contrary he holds the ladder like an half-drown puppy grabbing a floating piece of wood. Katsuki understands he's stabilizing the stepladder, Katsuki shouts, refuses to come down, what the hell, when did he thought he needed someone to keep a ladder in place for him? Who does he think he is? He's not a shitty lost cat or some old lady his boyfriend keep saving day after day! He won't fall, he should know that, he's more talented than him in everything he's got the best reflexes he doesn't need someone to hold a stupid ladder!

"I DON'T NEED YOU!" explodes Katsuki, literally, and the sound of detonations makes Izuku back off.

Space. So he can climb down the ladder. Alone. Walk to the set table. Lay his hand on the tureen. Lukewarm. He could reheat it, they got induction plates and a microwave. But instead he grabs the dish, and Deku sees it coming and reaches with his hand, like he would protest, prevent it from happening. He moves to the kitchen, empties it on the sink. There. Ruined. Like the fish. Like his evening. And he does not stop there, he walks past the young man and his gaping mouth, gets his plate back, and begins to drop the meal into the trash can.

Deku is behind him and he feels from the tension in his fists he's not happy and he is going to sulk in his room but no, he babbles, "I have prepared the meal, Kacchan... You could at least put the leftovers in the fridge, if you don't want it I'll eat it later."

And he's fed up with him trying not to be annoyed, trying to hide that he's hurt, attempting to keep this tone, reasonable and calm and soft, as if he thinks he's a capricious child, as if he was the only adult in the room.

Can't he say it as it is? Can't he say he's a jerk and let it blow once and for all? He thinks it. Of course he does! So just say it! It's not like he doesn't give him occasions! But no, he wants to talk, just talk, always talk!

Katsuki doesn't want to talk. He wants to unwind. Deku is always behind him, and it's his patience, it's his kindness itself that infuriates him, he just wanted a quiet night, watch the news, play online, maybe have a good fuck. Relax. Not play pretend as a perfect sweet little couple like Deku would. Not having to watch his behaviour, to care about starry-eyed, precious sensitive Deku, the poor little thing. He just wants peace. If he dates guys it's not to get all the trouble, the fuss and whims, it's not to be stuck with some leech suffering from emotional dependency, always whining, one that counts the time they spend together, watches his meals, with his dietetics bullshit and his schedules, his neighbours reunions and this maniac habit of making him reminders for his job (who needs to remember the names of all their partners?). Deku is always, always behind him!

He knows what needs to be done, for him to learn his lesson. He's making a point here. He should have given him space. It's his fault. He should have read the signals. Lock himself in the room like he sometimes does. He just asks for a little break here. He's on edge. Can't take more. He can't breath. He did not ask him to prepare food. He did not ask him to change this light. He should know his place. He must know it, by now.

He turns back.

* * *

Hi there, this is a translation of a fanfiction I wrote in French. There will probably be a lot of mistakes and things that does not sound good in English. I would love to learn to write in English and I need some help with that ^^  
I finished which was a long One shot last summer. I wrote it on an impulse. It's a bit old now so my passion for it decreased, but rewriting it in English somehow makes me discover it with a new look.  
Katsuki is such an unsufferable diva here it would be fun if it wasn't so terrible. I read and rewrite this again and again so I see how ridiculous he is, like seriously WHO is whining and making a fuss here I wonder. I really want to punch him in the face, but it's not happening... well, not right now anyway _  
This is a really pessimistic interpretation of the character, I know it does not fit his character development. Things have evolved differently in this AU and the romantic and codependant relationship that developped between Katsuki and Izuku... well, it's not good. I honestly did not put that much thought about justifying it at the time as it's just enhancing Katsuki's weak points, it doesn't seem unnatural to me. But now I am working on another fic in this setting so I have a better idea of what is going on.  
I hope you will be interested. Please let me know what you think. I'd love to discuss a bit more with the English speaking community :)


	2. Trashes

There is still fish and rice stuck to the plate. Slowly, watching him, he tips the dish, until the food drops on the floor. Sploch. He stares at Deku and notices with satisfaction the growing tension in his muscles. He defies him in his gaze, to move, to rebel. To give him the right reason…

Deku is frozen, eyes not moving from the mess that stains the tiling. His meal. Tears form in his eyes. He does not dare to look at him. He knows his expression all too well, too well this face too pale, this fixed and menacing rage that makes Katsuki's features sharp.

The plate falls. Deku startles, in this china shattering sound, but does not flee, not yet. He stays there, blinking hopelessly, and big round tears overflow from the corner of his eyes to go down each side of his nose.

Katsuki doesn't need to look at his face, to see the tears, he knows him by heart, every reaction.

"What, you don't pick up? Trash belongs in the bin…"

The young hero joints turned pale, he bites his tongue. He knows that Katsuki has a bad day. That if he can endure, avoid provocation, it will get better. He just needs to let it out… It will pass…

He reluctantly approaches Katsuki. He knows if he doesn't comply the worst might happen. He sees his partner hands tremble, and the unsettling light in his look. He crouches to gather the shards with the dustpan, at his feet.

Clumsily.

Katsuki dominates and contemplates him with a bitter satisfaction. That good for nothing, useless boyfriend of his. Always picking up behind him. Always behind him.

Except in the ranks. How that little shit, that whiner without balls, who never ever look up, can have such a successful career? You should see him at home… No one would ever imagine how he really is. How could he gain people's respect? His popularity? What good does he have behind All Might's legacy? He sucks. He always have. Watch him. He's good for nothing. He never fully achieve anything. That's not fair.

It's not fair, whereas Katsuki does more hours, more training, pushes harder, and with his talent… Ah, he does not lose his time for a fake family life! For a so-called relationship! Like he could afford it, with his ambitions...

He can't stand that nonsense anymore, that presence. Of that guy who tries to fix things all the time. Who dares to surpass him in the charts. Deku, the good for nothing. Deku, the hero. Deku, his half. And he doesn't know why they're both here anymore except for that petty pleasure, to see him at his feet in his kitchen, to savor this satisfaction, this fact-proven superiority, this superiority that is his. It's unfair, unbelievable, that he is not the first. They got the casting wrong. Look at him crawl.

How he hates it, when they present him as "the symbol of peace partner", again and again. He's not accessory! He's not an accessory Deku can wear at his arm like a bracelet, a pricey watch, the talented, easy on the eye boyfriend whose ranking still is pretty good. Those fucking high society dinners.

He detests all those dulcet efforts he deploys to possess him, make him his thing, his little dog, his little bitch, with his hypocritical niceness, like this is not manipulation, a way to make him change. He always waited for this, always behind him, and now, he gets just what he wants.

"Maybe you'd be more popular if you tried to be polite." "You should get less annoyed." "You could, maybe, apologize?" "They can't feel safe if they don't feel you can control yourself." "You're going too far with villains." "People fear you." "You should be nicer."

"Do you even want to help people?"

The voice of Deku and the media's voice, the rumors, the gossip, they're all smashed together, and it's like Deku pronounces all those words, concentrates all the criticism. The only one, nearby, who focuses all the bad feedback. As if he wouldn't know which road to follow, as if he wasn't doing what is best.

He charges it all on him. Everything, his fault. If he just wasn't there. And he's under the impression that when he repeats "I'll kill you", more and more, he can read in his eyes a real doubt, like he'd do it, like he'd be like that! He exaggerates, Deku, he overdo it, he just wants to pull him down to his level, to make him a loser as he is, because he can't be just as good. He's right, he knows he's right, it's just an accident, it's just an injustice, if he doesn't get the recognition he deserves. And Deku is wrong, he doesn't need to change, he told him he wasn't the type to move in together but he wanted to keep his precious little dreams, he's the one who have to assume, the consequences, he's not going to kill him, it's just an expression, if he took a knife, it wasn't to use it, and when he destroyed the living room, Deku wasn't inside!

He doesn't even realize when his hand goes off. He doesn't even know why. He gave him a funny look, there. He asked for it.

He doesn't think.

Just this urge, simmering inside him from the beginning, since he saw Deku and his stupid smile, Deku waiting for him. Deku and his insufferable good will. After this shitty day. It was above his strength.

Old habits die hard. It lasted a year, without deterioration ; almost a normal couple. Then the arguments became more frequent, more violent. And they fell back to their former statu quo : Katsuki blows, Deku endures. He had warned him.

He hits him.

He brutalizes him, he let go. He strikes to the face, without reflexion, without thinking about tomorrow, the explanations. He's rich enough to pay a discrete quirk doctor, he just have to accuse a villain. Not his problem. He doesn't think. He let himself free, blows raining down on him, to show him, like good old days, just who he is What he can do. What he can do that he cannot.

And when he's done, when he calmed down, he wonders, like every time, at Deku's submission. Who does nothing but to protect himself, to shelter, to moan, to suffer. Like a victim. Like a miserable quirkless. That man, a hero? Really? He smiles, full of spite, his sadistic needs eased. Relieved. Proving once again nature made us winners or losers, despite what All Might did.

Once he turns his back on him, Deku disappears, searching for a refuge in the room, like each time. He doesn't take it into account, knowing it's temporary, he'll come back, like a yoyo, so he doesn't pay attention to the sobs filtering through the panel. A few explosions to change his mind, and cover the noises. He knows his game, he's going to play the victim, and apologize to get him to feel guilt, like he could be right just by the sake of how pathetic he's making himself.

He turns on the TV, finally alone to watch his show. When he's finished, he'll go into the room (Deku'd better not forbid him to pass) and he'll be able to fuck his boyfriend. Their arguments generally end this way ; anger and sex marry well. And even if Deku cries, if there is a thing years taught him about that boy, it's that deep down, he loves crying. He would not still be here otherwise.


	3. Sparkles

The night crept into the apartment, a soft and dark whisper flowing between the chairs, on the cold tiles, a luminous blinking bent by all those shiny surfaces in the kitchen, like a moon shaft. Except that it wasn't the moon, only the crackling of those millions of lights, those yellow, red, white splashes, those windows in the distance, those empty offices bathed in the glow of their neons at the top of their towers, those cars, those millions of lights. A city, a world they overlook, their beautiful apartment, their beautiful life suspended there at the facade like the balcony at the theater, over there heroes and villains continue their waltz and all those people continue their lives, with this distance, has the world changed? Has the world really changed? This countless glitter that swells down there like a lascivious sea, these esoteric, mysterious patterns, rows of cars, alignments of buildings, one would think of a grid between us and the light, all the energy the mysterious heart of the city, a candle holder pierced with so many holes that change constantly, encrypted. And above the mute, blind night, the stars guzzled by our great carnival, that swelling of ego, that beautiful city like all cities, when looked upon at night, from up there. It would be like a sea, a phosphorescent sea that got drunk with its salt, its plankton, that went crazy and eclipsed the moon, to reflect nothing.

This is the world they protect. All those lights, all that jumble, that mayhem of signs and symbols, anonymous lamp posts isolated to repel the dark, to repel the night. Humans. And Deku sees a meaning in it, when he looks out the bay window, where his hands worn out by work have left traces, fingerprints on the glass, pale evidences of his existence, of his gaze.

Deku sees something, in the concert of lights. Katsuki does not look at it. He feels the vast area behind him, that opening on the world and he doesn't read anything into it, doesn't sense anything in it. Just the blinding alignments, barbaric, of all those little insignificant glow-worms and it's been years since there is no more greatness to dominate all that. Millions of tiny flames that flicker, blink and go out without anyone even noticing. It hurts somewhere in the chest. It's too much.

So he turns his back on it, and stares at the cold light of his TV screen, the bad news, gaudy ads, the noise. The noise that fills his brain with cold thoughts, empty thoughts, work, rivalries, methods, criminal arrests, villain attacks rising, villains who never stop to harass them, like society's cancer; the death-penalty debate, and the police brutality. _Aren't heroes involved in the trade of fear?_ asks an intellectual. The trade of fear? What is that even supposed to mean? He does his job. That's all. He does his best. He's good at his job. He's great, but that's not enough. There has to be those dirty rumors on his back, those lies, that hostility. Contrary to what they say, he's always in control. He never injured seriously a villain if he could do otherwise. He is a perfectionist in his work. He knows the rules by heart. Contains violence, fights with skill, with mastery, and it's not because his instinct is the best and his reflexes are superhuman that he doesn't think. He contains the impulse, the violence, he works like a dog and nobody seems to be grateful. All they do is complaining, whining again and again. As if it's the heroes fault. And when it's time to point fingers, he's the dedicated target. Just like highschool, when they accused him of being some sort of half-villain. To the point that the League, their enemy, even tried to recruit him. What a joke. Just because he's a bit rash and says things the way they are.

He thinks about the interview. He never should have said that he wondered if in some cases, executing villains may be considered an option. He tried to ponder his views. He had no other choice but to answer the question. It wasn't about morals or ethics. He wanted to give a pragmatic point of view, because he's faced with recidivism, because he sees what's happening, things getting worse, because, yes, maybe fear prevails but they didn't choose the rules. They didn't decide to live after All Might era. In this nameless, chaotic time. But since he dared to say something that offended the civilians he's protecting, the people he's fighting for, he's the designated bad guy, the mandatory fascist, and they never could stand him anyway. He still got fans, thank you very much, but most do not like him. And they step back all uptight, scared away, as if him and a few clumsy words, an unfortunate opinion could be that dangerous.

He saw the villains sentenced to life. He met All for One a few times. And he cannot stand the view of this anti-quirk cell, those bindings, to be restrained chained and hold forever, into this closed and empty space, it's absurd. He's just being pragmatic (yet his ribcage seems too narrow and he has trouble to breath when he thinks about it) there's... something that makes him sick and angry at this idea. To feel lock up. Never to escape. And if he escaped... Well, he'd better be dead. And he turns off the TV to escape these speeches, the hot air.

In the obscure silence, he can hear sniffing coming up the bedroom and it's _too much_. He's upset and doesn't want to deal with it. Deku's over there like an excess, like a burden he tries to clear out but always comes back for the worst, and he doesn't know what to do with the hatred that seize him everytime he sees him, everytime he is on his thoughts, that feeling feeding on his energy for days and days being contained, until he breaks. It's a hassle he doesn't need, it takes him the strength he needs for the job, to endure the paperworks the hierarchy the relational, he thought about Deku all the time, and so he gave up, stopped thinking about it, he lets him struggle with his couple and therapy ideas and "what's best for us", and just tries not to see that like a fucking failure.

Crackling in his hands. His little explosions, ephemeral lights he catches a glimpse of from the corner of his eyes. Kid Deku, at night : "Do the sparkles! Do the sparkles!" and he did, to see those other lights, those lights of admiration shining in his big eyes. He did his explosions. Everyone congratulated him. You'll be strong. You'll be powerful. You'll be the best. Deku, only, was finding it _pretty_.

He hates this state, he hates this moment. He doesn't have regrets, he doesn't have to apologize. All this, Deku wanted. He deserved it, he asked for it. He just has to go.

But he wouldn't let him go. But he wouldn't live without him. Without this admiration look sullied by fear. Without this outlet for his anger. Without his narrow, suffocating, inhuman prison. He wouldn't survive without lies, and time passes letting only rage explosions like shards in the flesh, strings of words to reassure and cut himself from him, to pretend, pretend until it's true, there is no emotion, just the mechanical operation of his being, repetition, justification. He denied violence. Now he denies feelings. Suffocate. As long as he can hate Deku and all the other morons he can continue. He keeps going. But that moment is painful, just painful, can't we skip, 'til the next time when he's angry again and Deku's not crying?

Ok, maybe he fucked up. He's going too far. He doesn't know, doesn't want to know what he's done, and when he'll creep into the bedroom Deku will be in the dark turned face to the wall ; he'll behave like nothing happened. He'll slide against him and stroke him and he will call that love. In the next days he will be carefull, he will fight against frustration, offer concessions, almost normal times. Split. Turning his gaze away when Deku will have the modesty to be cleared off the marks, to ignore it and still smile, desperate for a few moments of pseudo-happiness.

He doesn't know anymore, in this state, in the darkness, the night shivering all around with the distant lights, what name to give to the suffering that permeates the air. Disappointment and sickness makes him press his palms onto his eyes, strained, strained. He wants Deku's arms to hug him, he wants Deku's embrace to fade it all, he wants to take him, wants to hear "I love you". He hates his weakness, loathes himself to the core, but tomorrow he will have wind the mechanism, reset the clockwork, restarted the music box and its bitter cruel melody. Tomorrow he'll have forgotten. Tomorrow everything will repeat.

Outside, the city can't sleep, never sleeps, all those sparkles shining only one night, for a brief moment, their bright radiance drown in the mass, insignificant. Without hope. He doesn't know how to see their beauty anymore.

And by the gaping door, a shadow watches him. A smile in the darkness. Like the void embodied.

* * *

This part was a lot harder to translate because the style is less familiar... I hope it's alright.

Camargue : Thank you very much! ;w;


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